Every family has catch phrases, code words that mean more than the actual definition of the terms involved, and the Aylworth clan is no exception.

One of the most often used of these phrases around my household was, “Daddy, are we having an adventure?”

Initially, that question evolved from a series of now almost legendary vacation catastrophes.

For decades most vacations involved cramming my dear bride, the saintly Susan, seven widgets, all the camping gear we could beg or borrow, and old Dad into the back of the family”s rolling-wreck du jour.

Since the vehicles we could afford — mostly vans, given the size of the mob — tended to be ancient and decrepit, there was always a substantial likelihood the poor thing would die before we got out of the driveway.

I remember one planned camping vacation to the coast that false-started twice when the van croaked within 50 miles of home and had to be towed back to town.

During each reversal of fortune — trying desperately to put the best available face on the situation — I explained to the widgets, “Don”t worry! We”re just having an adventure!”

Over the years the adventures escalated.

There was the adventure when the left rear wheel of the van simply fell off on the freeway.

There was also the adventure when another van broke down on the highway between our campsite and the amusement park we were going to visit. That adventure was mitigated because of the nice Highway Patrol officer, who loaded all of the widgets into his patrol car for the short ride to the repair shop. Breaking down was bad, but riding in the back of a cop car was “cool.”

We had an adventure where, after two days of camping, we had been to the emergency room three times for two damaged widgets and Susan”s sprained ankle.

Not all of the adventures were, strictly speaking, our fault.

There was the adventure when all nine of us, plus a borrowed nephew, were cruising through the Mexican desert in an equally Mexican taxi, when the cab blew a tire and the whole thing rolled onto its roof. We all came out of the mess unscathed, but the story lives in legend.

We had adventures involving a tropical storm, motel rooms infested with geckoes and an aggressive hammock malfunction.

It got to the point where any weirdness that happened in the family, regardless of time or venue, elicited the question, “Daddy, are we having an adventure?”

After awhile it became a family joke, but little did I know that it would become a multi-generational reality.

Last Thanksgiving several members of the extended family, from homes scattered around the map, came to Susan”s parents” home — two states away — for a miniature clan gathering.

With the house awash in grandwidgets of all sizes, the celebration was an unlimited joy.

The time came for our Matthew, his dear wife, Marie, and their four crumbgrinders to head home, two more states in the opposite direction.

Forty miles out, their mini-van suffered a terminal transmission failure, and required extensive open-hood surgery for the family to get home at all.

Matthew found himself explaining to his branch of the family tree that they were having an “adventure.” Susan and I drove out to rescue Matt and his brood and bring them back to Susan”s parents” home.

Matt”s only son, Jacob, who is 5, had an entirely 5-year-old”s take on the situation.

“Daddy decided we”d be on vacation for three more whole days!” he explained with a cheer.

I wouldn”t really want to pass “Are we having an adventure?” realities to any of my offspring, but Jacob proved disaster, adventure, and three more days to play are all a matter of perspective.

Roger H. Aylworth is a staff writer for the Enterprise-Record. His column appears every Sunday and he can be reached at raylworth@chicer.com.